One flew over the Coo coo's nest
by baynard
Summary: The brain's a delicate thing. Even the smallest trauma can wrought unforeseeable changes. Personality can change completely, memory torn asunder and physical handicaps can present themselves even if there's nothing wrong with the actual area affected. In this case, the courier lose more than just a bit of his memory. He lost his morality and self control.


**AN: yah yah, here I go again starting another story when I haven't been updating the others. But when an idea hits, an idea hits! I was playing fallout new vegas and started a new game where I decided I was going to be the biggest murdering asshole in the wasteland without completely alienating everyone around me so that I could still sell off my goods at a few locations. But as I had a good laugh killing a lot of innocent bystanders in the game, I wondered well, what if the courier did do this? What reason would he have to go on a rampage? And the answer that came to mind? Brain damage! And thus this story was born. Please let me know what you think =D**

"I hope you don't mind that I went through your belongings. I was trying to find your next of kin, but only found this." The old doctor handed over the delivery form indicating the item that had been stolen from me and where I was supposed to drop off the delivery. New Vegas, Mic and Ralph's.

Fiddling through the small duffel bag that the good doctor had handed me, I found a handful of caps alongside a couple bottles of drinking water, two stimpacks, a rusty combat knife and an ill cared for 9mm pistol with 3 spare magazines.

"Talk to Sunny Smiles, she'll get you back on your feet."

Smiling at the doctor I shook his hand. "Thanks for taking care of me doc!"

With my other hand I hefted the weathered pistol and put a bullet through his left eye. The sharp crack of the shot echoed dully followed by the meaty sound of speeding metal tearing through flesh. Red and gray painted the wall behind Doc Mitchell's head and the man crumpled to the ground, dead before he realized what happened.

Holstering the 9mm I calmly walked back into the room where I had awoken in. Grabbing the medicine I had noticed littered about the room I counted 6 stimpacks, a bottle half filled with rad X, a package of radaway and two syringes topped off with med X. Snatching the small medical kit by the wall, I filled it with my loot, adding a nearby bottle of water into it for good measures.

As I turned to leave the room, the 9mm submachine gun on a crate I hadn't noticed before caught my eye. Hefting the automatic weapon I noted that it was not loaded and test fired the gun. There wasn't the telltale click and my rather blank mind suddenly recalled that meant the firing pin was most likely misaligned. Nothing I couldn't fix.

Jamming the submachine gun into the belt behind the small of my back, I gave the house a once over to see if I could procure any more supplies for my journey. My scrounging was awarded with a barely serviceable laser pistol with a handful of energy cells and some more spare 9 mm ammo. Placing it all into my duffle bag I headed for the front of the house.

As I headed out the door, I looked down at the face of my now dead savior. My mind told me that logically what I had done was horrifying and I should be feeling something about the murder I had just committed on an impulse. Yet I felt nothing. How odd.

The harsh morning sun momentarily blinded my eyes that had grown accustomed to the darkness inside Doc Mitchell's home. When my vision cleared, what lay before me would be best described as unimpressive. As far as the eye could see was the dry brown drab earth of a harsh and thirsty land that bore little fruit. Broken shells of decayed homes dotted the town of Goodsprings, and here and there withered patches of wilting crops could be seen struggling valiantly to stay alive in the unforgiving Mojave, tenderly cared for by their owners who labored day in and day out for the meager sustenance they bore.

The grunting of nearby BigHorns showed that the town did not sustain it's diet completely on vegetables, though where the creatures manage to scrounge enough food to get that big was surely a mystery the best minds of science would have no answer for. A choked tumbleweed rolled past my feet as the hot wind playfully pushed it along like a cruel child poking at a deshelled snail.

"Well Howdy Pardner!" The mechanized voice jolted me from my observations and I fought the urge to tear my pistol from my hip holster. The boxy robot with vacuum like tubes that served as arms rolled up on a single giant wheel to greet me with it's flickering t.v. screen face. The cartoon cowboy image tilted it's hat at me.

"Might I say you are looking fit as a fiddle!" The cheerful cowboy accent was completely overdone, but strangely I felt oddly comforted by it's mechanized tone.

Recognizing the description of my savior from an early grave I decided not to kill him for startling me. "You Victor?"

"Why yes sir, that's my name!"

"Thanks for digging me out of the grave."

"No problem amigo. Anyone would have done the same."

Glancing back into town I decided that Victor would perhaps be a good source of information. "What's there to do in town?"

"Well there's the saloon if you're feeling a might parched. And the local stores a good place as any to get supplies. Other than that there's not much going on in this town. Folks here like it quiet."

Nodding my thanks at the robot, I received a tip of his hat from the screen before I set off towards the General Store. If I was going to hunt down the one who shot me, I was going to need more than just what I had on my person.

The store front of the building was in better condition than the other homes that littered the area around it. For one thing the door was still in place, but beyond the rather old and decayed look of the building, it somehow managed to remain roughly intact even after more than 200 years. Noticing the work bench that was off to the side of the building, I made a beeline towards it. Using the array of tools available, the broken submachine gun was soon back in working order.

A small chime sounded as I entered the small shop, and a greeting was shouted out from somewhere behind the front desk. Taking in the small shop, I noticed that while there was a lot of knickknacks on display, there wasn't much in the way of weapons or other supplies a traveler might need. The asian man that rounded the bench took in my features with a raised eyebrow.

"So you're the one doc Mitchel was fixing up huh? From the sounds of it we didn't think you'd be getting up again."

Hefting a shovel that had been placed on a table alongside a multitude of other farming tools, I tested the weight of the handy digging apparatus.

"How much for the shovel?" I asked.

"37 caps"

Resting the spade on the ground I leaned it against my leg. Rifling through my small money pouch I counted out the number of caps needed and handed them over. The owner double checked my counting before nodding in satisfaction and turning to place the caps away. He probably never even knew what hit him.

The dull thwak echoed oddly in the silent room as the shovel head connected with skull, and a few more hefty smacks on the downed body splattered a horrifying amount of crimson on the ground. Dropping the blood soaked impromptu murder tool I silently wondered to myself why I had done that. I had paid the man for a tool I didn't really need, and the moment he turned his back I had killed him with it. There hadn't really been a reason for it, I hadn't even realized I was going to do it until his back turned. Why did I even buy the shovel in the first place?

Shrugging it off, I retrieved my caps that he had dropped as he fell and noted the .32 pistol at his holster. Pilfering the weapon and the handful of bullets he had on his person, I rifled through the cashier and got my hands on a few hundred more caps. The locked box no doubt held the more dangerous supplies that I needed, but the lock in place was complicated and a thorough search of the building yielded no key.

Deciding there wasn't a point in lingering, I dragged the body into the sleeping area behind the counter and left the man's body there. A canvas was used to soak up the floor and the balled up wad of cloth now dyed red was left next to the body. Exiting through the back door, I glanced about to see if anyone had seen me. Satisfied there was not witness to take care of I continued on.

Wandering around the back of the building I noted the long bench with a number of empty bottles lined up in a neat little row. It seemed someone liked to use this area as a practice range. Noting the similarly intact looking building next to the supply store, I entered through the unlocked back entryway. The dimly lit bar room was filled with grimy tables and scuffed looking bar stools. Soft music was being played in the background from a nearby jukebox. My mind felt the tune was familiar but the words would not come. There was a single man sitting at the bar, staring broodingly into his drink. My entrance prompted no reaction so most likely not the bar tender.

Excited barking alerted me to the approach of an animal, and trotting up behind the dog was a rather pretty girl in leather armor with long blonde hair pulled up behind her head in a messy ponytail.

"Cheyenne! Stay!" Her hand shot out and grabbed the excited mutt by the scruff of the dogs neck halting it's charge towards me. The dog gave some more barks but began to calm down and bowed down slightly under the touch of her master wagging her tail excitedly.

"Sorry about that stranger. My names Sunny Smiles!" the smile on her face certainly showed why she was called that. "You're the one doc Mitchell fixed up right? What's your name?"

Opening my mouth, I again came to the realization that I did not know my name. Frowning slightly as pain lanced through my skull, I struggled to find an answer. Recalling the delivery form that had been in my package, I decided to lessen the hassle on future interactions by donning the moniker of my title.

"Call me Six."

Eyebrows shot up, but she made no comment regarding my chosen name. "Well glad to see you back on your feet. I promised the Doc I'd show you the ropes if you were interested whenever you got back on your feet."

Putting on my best impression of a smile, I nodded my head. "I'd like that."

"Meet me behind the saloon in ten minutes. I need to get some things."

It seemed she intended to teach me how to shoot. How amusing. Wandering after her retreating back, I noticed a storeroom near the front of the saloon. Casting furtive glance back at the man who was too engrossed in his drink to notice much else, I slipped into the small supply closet. Noting the difference in color of the floor under one of the many boxes of alcohol littering the shelves in the room I toed it aside and smiled at the floor safe on the ground.

The nearby computer terminal appeared to be linked to the safe, and my body moved as if on autopilot. Switching the terminal on, I soon had the diagnostic program running. My mind was drawing a blank on what I was doing, but my fingers were tapping away with ease and within minutes the screen flickered back to a normal display with a disengage lock command flashing on screen. Hitting enter on the keyboard, I was rewarded with a satisfying click and dimming of the onscreen display of the safe indicating success.

Scooting the chair over, I popped open the hatch and was disappointed to find that the safe held only some of the more expensive brands of booze. Shuffling through the bottles revealed nothing else of importance and with a nudge of my foot the safe closed once more.

Calmly exiting the storage I headed for the back door that led to the impromptu shooting range out back. Sunny Smiles and her dog was already waiting for me, the woman crouched down and playing tug of war with her dog with a loose strap of leather.

Hearing my footsteps, the blonde let go and gave the whining dog an affectionate pat on the head before turning to face me.

"There you are!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"I'm sorry were you waiting long?"

Chuckling Sunny shook her head and patted her dog's head some more. "It's ok, I have Cheyenne here to keep me company. Don't I girl?"

The dog barked up at her owner eliciting another laugh from Sunny. It sounded odd to my ears, and something alien feeling filled my body. My damaged brain was telling me I should recognize this feeling, but again I was drawing a blank on what it was supposed to be. Putting aside the odd yet not unpleasant experience I focused my attention back on the woman who had agreed to help me.

Reaching down, Sunny picked up the battered old rifle at her foot and tossed it to me. My hands snatched the gun out in mid-flight and instinctively pulled it into a cradle hold that felt most comfortable to me.

"Well seems like you haven't forgotten everything Six," Sunny observed. "Why don't you take a shot at those bottles and see if you're any good with that thing."

Walking up so that I was next to her, I pressed the butt of the rifle against my shoulder and looked down the iron sights. My first shot missed the bottle I was aiming at, sending up a puff of dust as the stray round ricocheted off the brick wall of the saloon. Crouching so that I could more easily balance the gun, I worked the bolt back and took aim once more and this time I nailed it right where the neck of the bottle met the body. The next three shots were all on target, though the last one just barely chipped off the top of the bottle near the opening.

"Not bad Six, but I know you didn't come to learn how to fight bottles. Tell you what, I've got to go clear out some gecko's near the water pumps. Why don't you come along and help? There'd be some caps in it for you."

I pondered her offer for a moment before nodding. "Sounds good."

Four box magazines for the Vermont rifle was handed over to me and I quickly reloaded before following after Sunny and Cheyenne. Our brief job took us outside of the skirts of the small town near some rocky formations. As we neared a particularly large mound of rocks that cast a massive shadow a strange wailing echo causing Cheyenne to come to a halt and begin growling with her ears perked up.

Halting in my jog at Sunny's raised hand, I watched her quickly peak out from behind the rock. Raising her free hand she put up three fingers indicating to me the number of targets. Placing a finger to her lips to indicate silence, she made a walking motion with her pointing and middle finger signaling her desire to sneak up on the rodents if possible. Following her half crouched form as she snuck around the corner, my eyes lingered on her shapely behind. Again that strange alien feeling filled my body leaving my mind grasping for the words to describe it.

Catching sight of one of the monstrous gecko's that plagued the Mojave desert, I raised my rifle in sync with Sunny. Two cracks issued through the early morning air and there was a loud squawk as the last member of the trio of lizards suddenly found itself alone. It got a few new holes to breath through it's skull before it even got halfway to where we were.

"Nice, didn't even get close this time." Sunny hummed happily to herself as we moved on, presumably to the next water station.

"They get close often?"

"Yeah sometimes they come to drink our water in big groups. I'm fast with a gun, but not that fast. That's why I bring Cheyenne with me."

Examining the dog bounding happily ahead of us, my eye caught sight of faint scars that showed beneath the ash fur; souvenirs from past skirmishes with the ugly lizards no doubt.

"Must be rough living out here. Why don't you get some of the others to come out with you?"

"We all got to play our part. I can't farm worth shit and there's not much else for me to do in town. So I hunt gecko's, keep them out of our water so people can safely get to them, and in return they make sure I get some food from their crops. Mostly I sell the gecko hides when I need a bit of spare caps and survive off eating their meat though."

"Sounds rough."

"You do what you got to."

Cheyenne suddenly began barking and took off ahead of us. "NO! Cheyenne! STAY!"

Sunny's frantic cries were ignored and she began cursing as she poured on the speed to catch up with her dog. Ignoring the slight stitch I felt in my ribs I continued at the same pace while sucking in air. Sunny disappeared over the corner where Cheyenne's snarls could be heard and the crack of her rifle began to sound.

Rounding the corner myself I noticed the mob of lizards crowded around the dog and woman. Snatching up the 9mm pistol, I opened fire. By the time the gun clicked dry the lizards were all dead, leaving a snarling Cheyenne who was limping from a bite to her hind left leg and a panting Sunny who's leather armor had protected her from the worst of the claws and teeth. Even so, she was probably going to be fairly bruised the next morning.

The fight now over, the dog began to whimper at the pain caused by the rather deep bite on her leg, trotting along on three legs. Sunny held onto her dog with a frantic look on her face, nearly on the verge of tears. "Oh baby, why did you go charging on ahead like that? We've got to get you to doc Mitchell's!"

Knowing what she'd find there, I had to make a quick decisions. Either I took care of the problem here with quick trigger pull, or I let her go to the doctor's house while I hightailed it out of town. Suddenly remembering about the medical supplies I had pilfered from the doctor's home I reached into the duffel bag across my back.

"No need, I can treat her here." Cheyenne gave another pitiful whimper as I got closer with Sunny holding her steady. Cleaning out the wound with some water, I applied half a syringe worth of med X near the wound, and carefully patted the bleeding opening dry. A stimpak was applied to the spot before a gauze was held onto the wound with some rightly wound bandages that I taped off with the ease of practice. It would seem I had done this before.

"Is she going to be ok?" The dog's whining had died off now that the med X was kicking in, and she simply looked tired, head drooping and eyes slightly clouded as the pain medication dulled her senses.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Why don't you take her home and I'll take care of the other wells?"

A conflicted look crossed the pretty woman's face and she worried her lip with the top rows of her teeth. "There's only one left, if you follow the ridge of this rock formation you'll eventually hit it. Maybe you should wait for me, I'll come right back after I drop Cheyenne home. I don't want you running in alone on a big crowd of gecko's like the last group."

"Don't worry about me." I gave her my best reassuring smile. "I'll sneak up real quiet, and if there's too many of them I'll come get you."

Relief flooded across her face. "Alright then, be careful. I'm going to take Cheyenne home. Come find me when you're done. Come on girl."

Slinging the rifle across her back, Sunny carefully picked up her dog and marched off at a steady pace. Well that was one disaster averted. Following the ridge of the rock as I was told, I padded along carefully, keeping my eyes and ears open for any signs of the little lizards. After a few minutes of walking, the sharp piercing scream of someone in distress cut through the silent morning.

Cradling the rifle closer to myself, I slowed down my pace to make as little noise as possible. Rounding another blind corner, I caught the sounds of the hisses and strange warbling wail of the oversized gecko's. About one short of half a dozen of the little monsters were crowding a woman against the rocky formation I had been following. She was frantically swinging a cleaver about, temporarily keeping her attackers at bay. One of the bulging eye reptiles was laying on the ground some ten meters away, half it's head hacked off at the neck.

Taking careful aim, I continued observing the ensuing melee. The woman's wild hacks and chops had injured quite a few of the gecko's and as I watched she managed to catch another right down the middle of the skull as it rushed her. Unfortunately the blade became stuck in the head of the lizard she just killed and the momentary lapse in her defense as she freed the meat chopper was her undoing.

The remaining four Gecko's pounced on her together tearing into exposed and unarmored flesh with ease and her screams filled the air. Another swing of the cleaver from the dying woman killed another Gecko before it's brood mate bit the arm holding the blade clean off.

As her choking screams died down into wet gurgles I sighted one of the feasting lizards with the rifle. A quick pull of the trigger and it dropped like sack of potatoes. Switching over to the one next to it, I caught it right in the snout as it turned around to investigate the noise from my rifle discharging. The last gecko had caught sight of both it's companion's death and decided it had had enough.

Popping up onto it's two hind legs, the little lizard took off running. It's strange bipedal gait was slanted forward as if it might fall onto all four at any moment, but somehow it maintained it's awkward balance as it ran. Moving the rifle so that it was aimed slightly ahead to where I thought it's path might take it, I waited until the last possible moment before taking the shot. I missed.

Grimacing at missing the shot, I instead reloaded and shuffled over to the dead woman. Her chewed upon and partially eaten corpse stared up at me, her mouth a gaping slash of gore from where one of the lizards had torn off the lips. Sightless eyes stared up at me, still reflecting the shock and pained expression she had held as she died. A quick examination of her body turned up nothing of value, but there was a half empty gallon jug of water dropped hastily on the ground near the location of her last stand.

Taking a gulp from the liquid to ease my thirst, I decided to track down the last lizard that had run off. Following the trail was easy enough, the dusty roads revealing for any who cared to look the footprints of the fleeing reptile. As I rounded another corner in the mazelike structure of stones, I noted that I was actually on a small overhanging where a campfire had been built underneath.

The drop was short, barely six feet and my landing was not too painful. A brief scan of the area showed nothing worth noting except for the small mobile home structure twenty meters away. A head popped out from the entrance and upon seeing my crouched form hurried over.

The man appeared young, most likely just out of his teen years, though life in the wasteland had not been kind to him. He wore the same soft leather armor that Sunny had, though his was notably more worn, and certainly he did not look even half as good as she did.

"Can you help me? My girl's trapped by a bunch of gecko's!"

"I'm afraid to tell you she's dead."

"She's just behind the- wait what?"

"She's dead. Found her mauled by a bunch of gecko's near the drinking water."

The confused look on his face told me that he had no idea what I was talking about.

"No, it can't be her, my girl's trapped up behind that hill next to the broken radio tower! You've got to help her!"

"Sure thing, but I'll probably need better armor though."

The 9mm pistol upholstered at a speed that surprised even me. My aim was perfect, right between the eyes and the man crumpled down without a sound. The leather armor proved easy to remove, and I quickly suited up with the meager protection before dragging his body back to the mobile home and dumping it inside. Hopefully it will be a while before someone checked up on him.

Climbing back into the overpass I continued following the trail of the last lizard only to discover that the path led me past the broken radio tower that the man I just murdered told me about.

Noticing the small clumps of shrubbery that littered the ground I knelt to investigate one of them. Broken shells of eggs let me know that this was most likely a nesting ground for gecko's. Probably not the best idea in the world to go here by myself. Maybe it was time to head back to town and collect my pay for clearing out the drinking area.

**AN: Probably should be worried I had so much fun writing this huh? Well let me know what you guys think. I'll update when I get more inspiration as I play more in my rampage Courier profile. Will he help Joe Cobb ? Or Ringo? Or kill both and torch Goodsprings to the ground? Find out next time! Adios!**


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